


Boot Camp

by chellerrific



Category: Bleach
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-07-07
Updated: 2013-07-07
Packaged: 2017-12-17 23:08:58
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,260
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/873019
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chellerrific/pseuds/chellerrific
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ichigo’s a little out of shape thanks to his time-out from shinigami duties. This is probably not going to be helpful.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Boot Camp

**Author's Note:**

> More silliness. No regrets. Picking on Ichigo isn’t really one of my hobbies, but you wouldn’t know it from this. (If he ever wants to rush a frat, he’ll be good to go.)

Ichigo tried to speak several times throughout the morning, but every time he opened his mouth, he found he lost his nerve.

Finally, the Head Captain could take it no more. “Well, boy? What is it? You’ve obviously got something to say, so you might as well say it before somebody mistakes you for a fish and throws you in a pond!”

Ichigo cleared his throat. “It’s just… when you said all the captains wanted to help me get back into shape after being out of commission for so long, I just thought, well… is practicing at tea ceremony really all that necessary?”

Both the Head Captain and his lieutenant (whose name Ichigo _still_ could not remember, no matter how hard he tried) cast him dark looks. Distantly, he thought he heard thunder rumbling.

“No no no!” he said, backpedalling quickly. “It was a joke, a joke!”

“Hmph.” The Head Captain looked down. “Now… where was I…”

“If you aren’t sure, perhaps you should start over,” his lieutenant suggested. “It would be most disagreeable if you were to miss anything.”

“Hm. True. Very well then…”

Ichigo gritted his teeth and hoped he didn’t lose his legs due to lack of blood flow.

* * *

“Unacceptable,” Suì-Feng said, her face its usual mask of disdain. “If you can’t even manage to keep up with Omaeda, then you are next to useless.”

Marechiyo stood over him, silently gloating.

Ichigo didn’t bother pointing out that Marechiyo had about a hundred years’ head start on him in shunpo. Excuses would get him nothing from Suì-Feng except maybe another kick to the face, and he’d had enough of those to last a lifetime.

“Fine. Let’s go again,” he said.

“I guess some guys are just gluttons for punishment,” Marechiyo said. “Huh, Captain? This guy seriously thinks he’s capable of matching the Onmitsukido in speed! It’d be pitiful if it weren’t so funny!”

“You are sweating on me,” Suì-Feng growled, and Marechiyo immediately jumped back about ten feet. “Just shut up and run the course again.”

This time, Ichigo was sure he’d beaten Marechiyo by at least a tenth of a second.

“No way!” Marechiyo said. “That round was mine too!”

“Then let’s ask Suì-Feng,” Ichigo said, not about to concede defeat. “Hey, S—”

She wasn’t even looking at them, because Yoruichi had shown up, and all her attention was directed there.

Bullying Marechiyo into running the course with him more would be easy enough, but as for any further coaching from Suì-Feng, well, even Ichigo was capable of recognizing a hopeless cause sometimes.

* * *

“Hmm.” Rose had him pinned under a probing stare, and it didn’t seem he liked what he saw. He held up his hand and snapped his fingers. “Izuru.”

Izuru materialized immediately to place a tape measure in the waiting hand.

With it, Rose swiftly began taking Ichigo’s measurements. “You’ve grown quite a bit since last I saw you, haven’t you?”

“Well, yeah, it’s been over a year and a half,” Ichigo pointed out.

“Ah, yes. You human children are always growing, aren’t you? For people like us, it’s a big deal to change our hairstyle, we’re so… monophonic.” Rose waved a hand. “What _are_ we going to do with you, Ichigo?”

“I don’t know. What did you have in mind?” Somehow, he didn’t think the answer would be “sword drills.”

“A bit of a ruffle, maybe. Never underestimate the power of a well-executed ruffle.” Rose lifted Ichigo’s arm by the sleeve, inspecting the cuff.

“Yeah… I’m not really a ‘ruffles’ kind of guy.”

Rose considered him, chin in hand. “Hmm… no, I suppose you’re not. Your hair already adds a splash of color; any more would be unnecessary. What do we call adding color needlessly, Izuru?”

“Garish, sir,” Izuru supplied immediately.

“Garish. No offense intended to Captain Kyoraku, but I definitely cannot leave this task to him, and I sincerely doubt anyone else will give it the attention it deserves. Maybe Shinji, but, well…” Rose exchanged disapproving looks with Izuru.

“Uh, yeah. About that. I’m perfectly fine with my outfit the way it is.” Ichigo knew it was useless, but he figured he’d give it a try anyway.

“Of course you are. That’s why you have us. Now see, Izuru can do regulation, but that’s because he’s got an interesting face, right?”

Ichigo looked into Izuru’s perpetually doleful eyes and decided to respond, “Yeah.”

“You’ve got a start on something here, but I’m just not sure what you’re trying to _say_.”

“‘I’m a shinigami’?” Ichigo suggested.

“Hmm,” Rose said for maybe the hundredth time. “How do you feel about leather?”

* * *

“Welcome, Ichigo. Have a seat. I’m not really sure what you want to do here today, so why don’t you tell me?” Retsu smiled at him.

Ichigo rubbed the back of his neck. “Ah, well, the thing is, I don’t really know kido, like, at all…”

“Mm, that’s true, isn’t it. Most of the strongest shinigami tend to be well-rounded, but that’s not always the case. Some very powerful leaders have been weak in one or two areas. Captain Zaraki and Lieutenant Abarai come to mind. Still, it’s not a bad idea to give it a try, wouldn’t you agree?”

“Well, uh, I guess.”

“Good. Isane?”

Her weedy lieutenant stepped up beside her. “Hello, Ichigo.”

“Since I know you pick up on things quickly, this lesson will be twofold. First, defending against kido is different from defending against other kinds of attacks, so Isane will come at you, and you will try to avoid or throw off her attacks. Second, I find that students who don’t have a particular proclivity for the subject pick up on healing techniques much more quickly when their lives depend on it. I will coach you from the side so pay attention. Ready? I must warn you, Isane’s kido is very good.”

“Uh,” said Ichigo, wondering if it was too late to back out now.

“Good. Let’s begin.”

* * *

Jazz music blared out over the grounds. Shinji waved one foot in time with it. “Ooh, that one looks like a pirate ship.”

“It looks like a cloud to me,” Ichigo said. “They all look like clouds.”

“That’s because you tragically lack any sense of romance or whimsy. Really, Ichigo, I weep for you. I do.”

“I know this is pointless, but I gotta ask if you’re gonna teach me anything today.”

Shinji frowned. “I had enough teaching you to last a lifetime. I don’t know if you’re aware of this, Ichigo, but you’re a terrible student.”

“Yeah, so I’ve heard.” He was really a very _good_ student when all this shinigami business wasn’t getting in the way, but there was no sense in explaining that.

“Besides, what’s the point? I know they already put you through your shunpo paces down at Assassin Central; I’m sure Unohana, bless her, tried to drill some kido through that thick skull of yours; I shudder to think what the little Kuchiki’s going to do to you later; and so on down the line until you have to go home early because that Kenpachi ground you into hamburger meat. Stop me if you think I’ve missed anything.”

No, that sounded about right to Ichigo.

“But if you insist… Momo!”

Ichigo threw himself out of the way just before the fireball struck—right where he’d been lying. Even with his fast reflexes he still had to extinguish a burning sleeve.

“Did I hit him?” Momo asked, jogging to a stop next to Shinji.

“Barely clipped him, I’m afraid, so… ten points only.”

“Shoot.” Momo pouted.

Shinji grinned. “Don’t worry! You’ll have plenty of chances to make up for it!”

* * *

The silence was unbearable. “Look, I know you have your own way of doing things, and I said this once already, but I can just about guarantee you I had more than enough seiza practice with the Head Captain.”

Byakuya barely glanced at him. “I find that hard to believe, given how sloppy your posture is.”

Ichigo straightened up. “Isn’t there any way we could be doing something a little more, I don’t know, _proactive_?”

To his surprise, Byakuya actually seemed to consider this. “Would you like to try your hand at calligraphy?”

“Th—that’s really not what I meant! Renji, can _you_ talk some sense into this guy?” Ichigo turned to appeal to the lieutenant sitting next to him.

“I don’t know what you mean, Ichigo.” Renji didn’t even look at him, just continued to sit perfectly.

“Oh come on! You have got to be freaking kidding me. Are you seriously turning this into some kind of sitting competition?”

“Certainly not. That would be childish indeed.”

 _I’ll show you childish!_ Ichigo thought, reaching over and pinching Renji’s foot as hard as he could.

He savored Renji’s howl of pain with vindictive glee, and even though his arms got tired quickly, he was sure standing in the hall with buckets of water was still more useful than sitting.

* * *

Ichigo wasn’t sure he’d ever admit it publicly, but rolling around in the grass with Goro was probably his favorite point of the whole semi-ridiculous endeavor. Letting a dog lick his face was a lot more fortifying than any amount of seiza.

“Can he do tricks?” Ichigo asked, throwing Goro’s favorite bone as hard as he could. Goro bounded after it, tail held high.

“Ah… no, not exactly,” Sajin said, scratching his chin. “You see, when I tried to teach him, he was always so happy and excited that I couldn’t help but give him treats even if he didn’t do the trick right.”

This didn’t surprise Ichigo in the slightest. “He can fetch, though. That’s pretty good.”

“Well… he’ll chase what you throw, that’s true, but I wouldn’t expect him to bring it back any time soon.”

After a few minutes passed, Ichigo realized he was right. “Eh. Tricks are overrated. That’s not really what a dog is for anyway, unless it’s a service dog.”

“On that we are most assuredly agreed. Goro!” At Sajin’s call, Goro came bounding happily back into view, though the bone was nowhere in sight.

“Hey, Ichigo.” Tetsuzaemon clapped him on the back. “Once you’re done here, we’re all ready to go on phase two.”

“‘Phase two’?”

“Yes. You see, Tetsuzaemon and I each had ideas for your self-improvement, so we decided to do both of them,” Sajin explained, kneeling to scratch Goro behind the ears.

“That’s right! Today, Ichigo, you’re going to man up!” Tetsuzaemon grinned.

“What, I haven’t been ‘manning up’ this whole time?” Ichigo had a sinking feeling about what exactly that phrase might mean to Tetsuzaemon.

“Not enough. Tell me, Ichigo, have you ever thought about getting some ink?”

* * *

“You know, I did some cloud-watching with Shinji earlier, but I gotta say, I like your way of doing it better.”

Shunsui looked pleased with himself. “That’s because my way involves sake.”

“It’s weird though. I never drink but right now I don’t feel drunk at all! Is it hot out here?” Ichigo opened the collar of his shihakusho a little further, then held his hand up to his face. “Whoa.”

“Mm. Maybe you’ve had enough. I’ll have to hear it from the old man if I destroy your liver.”

“Eh, I’ll just get a new one.”

Shunsui chuckled. “Well, it’s always good to take an optimistic approach to life.”

The door to the porch slid open with a snap. “There you are!”

Shunsui sat up, startled, but Ichigo was too busy waving his hand in front of his face. “Nanao!”

“The Head Captain charged us with helping Ichigo Kurosaki sharpen his fighting skills and instead of doing that you are dulling his senses with liquor. I wish I could say I was surprised.” Nanao glared at her captain.

“Oh, come on, Nanao, don’t be like that!” Shunsui said with what he probably hoped was a placating smile. “He’s been working very hard. I thought he’d earned a break. Besides, the boy’s as sharp as ever!”

Ichigo tipped his head back. “Oh, hey, Nanao. When’d you get here?”

“It seems once again it’s left to me to make sure the job gets done,” Nanao said with a sigh, setting down her book.

Shunsui’s eyes widened and he grabbed Ichigo’s arm, hauling both of them up to their feet. “Uh-oh. Come on, Ichigo. That’s our cue to start running.”

* * *

“Say, Mashiro…”

Mashiro twisted so that she was looking at him nearly upside-down. “Yeees?”

“Where are Shuhei and Kensei?”

She shrugged. “Dunno! It’s just you and me today.”

Ichigo clenched a fist. Damn that Kensei, he was using him to baby-sit Mashiro!

“Keep up, Carrot Top!” Mashiro called, skipping ahead.

“Where are we going, anyway?”

“Just somewhere open. The Head Captain gets mad when we wreck the buildings. Here should be good!” She stopped and pirouetted to face him.

“Good for what?”

Mashiro grinned. “I figured they’d focus on hoho at the Second, and there’s nobody else outside the Ninth who’d be any good at drilling you in hakuda. So! Leave it to Mashiro!” She pulled on her mask.

He barely had time to blink before the first kick sent him flying into a tree.

* * *

Ichigo dropped the brush and flexed his ink-stained fingers. His hand had cramped up about an hour ago. “Um, Rangiku, why is it I get the impression you’re just using me to do your paperwork?”

“Hm?” Rangiku looked up from her magazine at him. “Don’t be silly, Ichigo. We’re teaching you valuable administrative skills. It was the Captain’s idea.”

“Was it also the Captain’s idea to requisition this much of your budget for liquor?”

She blinked. “You’ve actually been reading and understanding all those forms?”

“Uh, yeah? According to you, isn’t that the point?”

“Ah… when you put it like that, I guess it is. More importantly…” She held up her magazine. “Are these sex tips for real? I mean, they put them in as a joke, right? Nobody would actually believe these were good ideas, would they?”

Ichigo gritted his teeth. He was not having this conversation. “I have no idea.”

Mercifully, Toshiro arrived before she could press the issue. “Oh, hello, Ichigo. I didn’t know you’d be here today. What are you doing?”

Ichigo turned to glare at Rangiku, who blocked his gaze with the magazine. “Oh, shoot, is that the time? I have an appointment far, _far_ away that I absolutely can’t miss. Later, fellas!”

* * *

“This! Isn’t! Really! Training! It’s! Mostly! Just! You! Whaling! On me!” Ichigo spoke carefully between strikes, trying not to bite off his own tongue.

“That’s a kind of training! You know better than any of us there’s no better teacher than a real fight,” Kenpachi said, grinning with sadistic glee.

Ichigo did actually know the truth of that, but he wasn’t about to agree out loud.

“Yay, Kenny! Kick his butt! Kill, kill, kill!” Yachiru cheered from the sidelines.

“We’re not supposed to kill him, remember?” Yumichika said, in the same tone of voice one might use to say, “Leave your shoes by the door.”

“Hey, Captain!” Ikkaku yelled. “Don’t forget I get him next!”

Ichigo tried not to groan. So that was why Hanataro was waiting there on standby.

* * *

The SRDI was dark and creepy, much like the man who ran it. “I received an extensive list from the Head Captain of all the things I am explicitly not allowed to do to you. Now, I would be tempted to ignore this list, but that creates such a lot of paperwork. You wouldn’t believe how bureaucratic things get just because of a dead body or two.”

Ichigo was waiting for Mayuri to get to the point before activating his bankai.

“Anyway, it’s really too much of a bother so I’ve devised a battery of tests that don’t require any incisions or—” he heaved a weary sigh— “injections.”

“Wait. This is supposed to be about my training, not… whatever weirdness you’re up to today,” Ichigo pointed out.

“My, you are a selfish one, aren’t you!” Mayuri frowned extravagantly. “If that’s your only concern, then it’s no concern at all. One of the tests involves measuring your reaction time to Nemu. Incidentally, this should also provide me with useful information on Nemu, so don’t hold back. Unlike the Head Captain, I take responsibility for repairing my own things should they break. Nemu?”

“Yes, Master Mayuri.”

“Our test subject is ready. Get started.”

Nemu fired up her drill hand and lunged.

* * *

“So, Ichigo.” Jushiro smiled warmly at him. “Since we’re your last stop, why don’t you give me some idea of what you’ve done at the other divisions? Then we can try to cover any remaining bases.”

“Well, let’s see.” Ichigo ticked the items off on his fingers. “I got beat up by Suì-Feng, beat up by Isane, beat up by Momo, beat up by Nanao, beat up by Mashiro, beat up by Nemu, beat up by Kenpachi, beat up by Ikkaku, beat up by most of the Eleventh, really, fought through a hangover, filled out about a thousand forms, sat seiza for hours, got measured for leather I-don’t-even-know-what, and, oh yeah, got a tattoo in a very private place, and no, you can’t see it.” He finished with a pointed look at Rukia, who quickly tried to replace her curious expression with an innocent one.

“Oh, my.” Jushiro gave a bit of a chuckle. “Sounds like you’ve had it pretty rough.”

Ichigo shrugged. It had definitely been a wake-up call as to just how relaxed most of his time away from Soul Society had been, that was for sure.

“Is there anything in particular you still _want_ to do?” Jushiro asked.

Ichigo considered. “Not that I can really think of. Frankly, I’m already starting to feel like I was never away.”

“In that case, I don’t see why we can’t just call it a day. Why don’t you and Rukia take it easy, maybe do any catching up you feel you haven’t had the chance to do yet?”

“You’re turning Ichigo over to me, sir?” Rukia asked.

“If you want to think of it that way. Mm, unfortunately I’m feeling a bit fatigued. You don’t mind if I get some rest, do you?”

“Of course not,” Rukia said. “Ichigo and I will be fine.”

Once he was gone, she turned to Ichigo with a wicked smile that made his blood run cold.

“What’s that look for?” he asked, fairly certain he didn’t want to know the answer.

Rukia unsheathed her sword. “It’ll be a shame if at the next Women’s Association meeting I’m the only one without a ‘beating up Ichigo’ story to share.”

“What are you talking about? You have way more of those than anybody!”

Rukia shrugged. “Eh. Those are ancient history. I think I wanna make some new memories.”

“You kicked me in the head and ran me through with a frickin’ sword just a few weeks ago!”

“You really don’t understand the concept of talking someone out of something, do you? Now hurry up and draw your sword, unless you want this to be a completely one-sided fight. To be honest, I’m fine with that too.”

“Why does everyone here enjoy beating me up so much?”

“Because it’s fun! You should try it some time.” And with that, she attacked.

* * *

Ichigo flopped onto his bed, exhausted. His grateful moan turned into a sharp hiss of pain, though, and he quickly flipped over onto his stomach. Even with all the beatings he’d taken, it was his tattoo that still bothered him the most.

Didn’t it just figure.


End file.
